


Endure

by Hermaline75



Category: Coriolanus - Shakespeare
Genre: Forced Orgasm, Hate Sex, M/M, PWP, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sex as war
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-10
Updated: 2014-03-10
Packaged: 2018-01-15 06:33:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 767
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1294996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hermaline75/pseuds/Hermaline75
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I wrote a little drabble for black-nata a little while ago.<br/>She really liked it.<br/>So I wrote more.</p>
<p>Confined in the house of his former enemy, Caius Martius has come to terms with his new position in life. It is to his horror that he realises Aufidius has desired him for a long time and means to have him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Endure

**Author's Note:**

  * For [black_nata](https://archiveofourown.org/users/black_nata/gifts).



> "I offered you my throat or my services, never knowing you would take both.
> 
> It felt strange to hear sounds of pleasure from your lips, not pain as I had wrought from them oftentimes before.
> 
> I choked upon your member and you tugged upon my hair, still fighting as we always did and always shall. I accepted my new place in the world, at your feet and your command.
> 
> Imagine, then, how strange it was to me, the night you returned and knelt in front of me."
> 
> (The drabble that inspired this. Or at least, the drabble that came before.)

It was not a kiss; it was an act of war.

It was marching through the city gates and seeing if I would strike you down.

And when I did not, you took my entirety.

\--

“Know thou first, I loved the maid I married.”

This was not a lie.

For though it held a trifling resemblance, what passed between yourself and I was not love. It was battle.

I endured the conquest of my mouth and throat, claimed yours in my turn, but you cannot say my fight was unanticipated when you came for the rest of my flesh.

At that time I was yet confined to your household. I cowered there, unwilling to let any see how you had made me your dog. I was not chained but I could do nothing but pace until you called for me, wait until you required my bite. Breathe until the time when you inevitably wanted my services in other ways.

You said nothing when you returned home and I tensed despite myself. I would show no fear to whole battalions at my gate, and yet before you I trembled. And when you came towards me I backed away.

A retreat which could not escape your advances.

I struck when your hands brushed my hips and I realised your intent.

The moves were practised. Familiar. Your leg scything mine, my back against the floor, my shoulder in your chest, my hand around your throat. It would be so easy. I could have killed you there, taken your army for my own and marched wherever I saw fit, whether on my former home or merely to its walls. We’d done this dozens of times before.

And then you bucked against me and I found you hard and wanting. This distraction was all you needed to turn me and pin me on my stomach.

The memory of your hands upon my naked flesh still brings me shudders. It was not the act itself, but what I realised you were tracing. Your fingers ran along my scars but only certain ones, the ones that you had left on me. The marks that claimed me as yours.

You remembered all of them.

I fought again as your hands moved lower. You had disrobed at some point and your bare thighs held me down. I could feel you still, stiff for me, and I wondered how long you had waited for this moment, to have me held beneath you.

How long had you planned for this?

How many nights had you found some other and made him fight you in the dark?

Did he moan prettily for you?

Which was not what you wanted, not truly. To fight is all we know and thus you wanted bruises and bites.

And you wanted them from me and on my skin in kind.

I refused to make noise for you, even as you took me. 

Your pants echoed in the room, your hands embedded in my flesh.

I pushed myself onto hands and knees, my saliva pooling on the floor.

I was no longer your dog but your bitch. And yet I would endure.

You were not finished, yet you stopped. I thought I had displeased you. I was glad of that.

And then you turned me on my back that you might look upon my face.

I turned away but you would not allow it, you wished to see the effect you had on me.

So I showed you.

I gazed on you with empty eyes, my body shaken with each thrust yet unresponsive. I may as well have been a corpse laid out beneath you.

You snarled and redoubled your efforts. The pain was intense in spite of the oil you had used. And yet I would endure.

It was with horror that I felt you reach between our bodies and take me in hand. Worse when I realised I was stiffening at your touch.

It was inevitable.

The first moan fell past my lips and I saw victory in your face.

The reactions of my anatomy were not my own. I bucked against you and your face split in a smile or grimace. I was not sure which.

I hope your wife heard your moans. I hope she knew you found completion in the unwilling form of another.

And as your hand forced me to spill, I hope you know I made an oath to myself.

This was merely a single battle in the wider war, and I will have my victory over your flesh soon enough.

We shall see who endures longest.

**Author's Note:**

> So this isn't in my normal style (since I usually like to write dialogue and lots of it) but I think it's good to try different things. Let me know what you think.


End file.
